


Lay Down Your Head

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-wing Series - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hair touching, Lullabies, M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: “I'm fine, Tycho. Don't fuss.” A moment later, Wedge reaches for his tissue again, coughing loudly into it for a long moment.“Don't say anything,” Tycho says before he can protest further. “Just for now, love. The Rebellion isn't going to fall apart if you go to bed early one day.”





	Lay Down Your Head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yunmin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/gifts).



> For Yunmin, who needed a feel-better fic and asked for hurt/comfort with Wedge being taken care of and pampered. <3 Title from "Deep in the Meadow" (yes, from The Hunger Games), because I basically had it on repeat while writing this even though I never listen to music while writing.

Wedge pulls a tissue from his pocket, gingerly prods his already-red nose, and leans heavily on his desk with a loud sigh.

Watching him from the other side of the office, Tycho comments mildly, “If dramatic sniffles had a healing effect, you'd've been well days ago.”

Wedge grunts, bending low over his datapad and poking listlessly at the screen.

Tycho shakes his head fondly and slides his chair back, crossing to stand behind Wedge, dropping his hands onto his shoulders. “You know, you'd get well much faster if you actually took some time to rest.”

Wedge doesn't look up. “The work doesn't stop just because I'm sick.”

“No, but if you work yourself until you drop, nothing's going to get done, is it? Besides, aren't I here to do your dirty work for you?”

Wedge shakes his head. “I'm fine, Tycho. Don't fuss.” A moment later, he reaches for his tissue again, coughing loudly into it for a long moment.

“Don't say anything,” Tycho says before he can protest further. “Just for now, love. The Rebellion isn't going to fall apart if you go to bed early one day.”

Wedge slumps back in the chair with a sigh, still chewing his lip.

“Let me pamper you for a bit,” Tycho murmurs in his ear before dropping a light kiss there. “You deserve it.”

“You said you would work while I was resting.”

“Once you're asleep, I'll come right back here.” Tycho chuckles. “Motivation for you to actually do so.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Wedge relents suddenly and pushes his own chair back. “But just this once.”

“That's all I asked.” Tycho smiles as he wraps an arm around him and leads him from the office and back toward their quarters. The walk isn't a long one, but he notices Wedge leaning heavier against him than he probably means to, sees the way his face is pale but for his fever-bright cheeks.

When they arrive, Tycho deposits him on the bed and instructs, “Put on your pajamas and get in bed. I'll be right back.” He trusts Wedge will listen to him now that he's actually convinced him to come away from his work.

When he returns a few minutes later, he's gratified to find he was right. Wedge is blinking up at him from under the covers. Tycho lowers the lights and goes to sit beside him, offering the glass of water and pair of cold medicine capsules he's brought back with him. Wedge eases himself up on an elbow and swallows them without complaint before laying back down.

Tycho sets the glass aside and smiles down at him, giving in to the urge to run fingers through his hair. Wedge's eyes slide closed, a contented sigh sliding from his lips. “See,” Tycho says softly, “I told you you'd feel better.”

Wedge's lips curve. “You're always right.”

“That's right.” Tycho withdraws his fingers from his hair and instead pulls the blanket up around Wedge's shoulders, tucking it in close around him. He knows he's doting, but he doesn't stop himself. He likes taking care of Wedge.

“Sing me a lullaby.”

Tycho pauses. “Don't tease.”

“I'm not.” Wedge's eyes flicker open, soft and brown. Feverish but serious. “I want to hear you sing.”

Tycho bites his lip for a moment. He'd studied music back in secondary school on Alderaan, but he rarely has occasion – or desire – to perform these days, even though the few who've heard him have told him his voice is still good. “A lullaby?” he repeats.

Wedge nods against his pillow. “You said you were pampering me. That's what I want. And this...” His hand inches out from under the blankets to take Tycho's, drawing it toward his hair again.

“All right.” Tycho resumes his ministrations, shifting the downy brown strands between his fingers as he clears his throat. He hasn't really decided on a song when the words start coming out of his mouth. “ _Mirrorbright shines the moon, its glow as soft as an ember_ ,” he sings softly. “ _When the moon is mirrorbright, take this time to remember..._ ”

It's a lullaby every child of Alderaan knows, the lines speaking of loved ones lost yet always with you. Once, it would have made him unspeakably sad, but now it's a comfort, especially as he watches Wedge relax under the sound of his voice, eyes growing heavy until Tycho is sure he's asleep.

The last note fades to silence, and Tycho eases himself away and begins to stand, ready to head back to the office. But Wedge's hand shoots out and fastens onto his wrist. “Don't go yet,” he mumbles without opening his eyes.

Tycho settles down again, full of fondness for this ridiculous man. “Sleep,” he answers, one hand curling into Wedge's as the other fishes a datapad from the nightstand drawer. He can get that work done just as easily from here.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Tycho sings is "Mirrorbright," which is mentioned in the Bloodline novel; I shamelessly copypastaed the lyrics from Wookieepedia.


End file.
